Sinclair 1

Lucas Sinclair

Miss Hernandez

American Literature 5

1 November 2017

A Restless Heart

"Give me a word, John," Abigail whispers, moving to block my path from the room. "A

soft word."

Now, that she's older, she is taller, and she doesn't hesitate to look me in the eye. Dear

God, was she really that young when welet me push that out of mind. Her warmth reaches me

as we stand there suspended in a moment, two prisoners trapped between her request and my

response. As the question hangs, I look over, and the freckles on her face make constellations, a

guide back to her body. Damn her. Why is she so close? In looking at her now, I remember

every other time I've been this close to her. She tempts me with every second we are this close.

A few red hairs slip loose from her bonnet, like embers of a roaring fire threatening to land in dry

grass and set it alight. It was just like that in the barn. All that red hair and fire consumed me

there in the dry hay. I come back to myself as she licks her lips waiting on my reply.

"No," I sigh, full of remorse, "no Abby. That's done with." I make myself step to the side,

gesturing for her to clear the doorway. If I retreat, she'll take it for an invitation to compromise,

and I can't compromise. Elizabeth has made it clear that a wife can overlook a mistake once, but

not even her Christian forgiveness can bear the same slight twice.
 Sinclair 2

"You come five mile to see a silly girl fly? I know you better." Abigail huff a soft laugh

at me then, shaking her head because yes, she does truly know me better. I take her firmly by the

arms, and for a moment, the desire to pull her close to me and love her again, is unbearable, but

the thought of my wife's face make me gently ease her from my path.

"I come to see what mischief your uncle's brewin' now." I find her gaze now, and I see

her soften. Her eyes begin to flutter closed, relaxing in my hands, waiting and wanting to be

pulled in for a kiss. I can't. I release her slowly. I can't. I make my voice hard like stone before I

speak again. "Put it out of mind, Abby."

"I have a sense for heat, John, and yours had drawn me to my window, and I have seen

you looking up, burning in your loneliness. Do you tell me you've never looked up at my

window?" With a swiftness I have never seen, she takes my hands in hers, pulling us close again.

"JohnI am waiting for you every night."

"I may have looked up." The desperate look on her face tells me how desperate she is in

that moment. A young girl on the brink of begging, opening her darkest truths to a man who

should have never touched her in the first place. I am a monster. I see that now. The devil's own

man. "Abby, I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before I'll

ever reach for you again."

Statistics: 546 Words 2237 Characters with no spaces 2845 Characters with spaces 7 Paragraphs

Adapted from pages 20-22